


The Route of All People

by orphan_account



Category: Ranma 1/2
Genre: Awkward Kissing, F/M, First Kiss, Kissing, Meet-Cute, Money, Rare Pairings, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 09:59:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11205717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Nabiki has something he wants.





	The Route of All People

**Author's Note:**

> Ryoga uses he/him pronouns because Ranma identifies as male. Whether or not Ranma’s hot spring curse has been sprung.

“Never?!”

  
Ryoga dipped his chin, a slow affirmative, feeling a blush staining his cheeks. Ranma had already rolled onto his side, clutching his petite stomach, feet kicking the air as he crowed with laughter.

  
“I think it’s sweet, Ryoga-kun.” Kasumi said, her soft, melodious voice chiming in over Ranma’s wheezing breaths. “There’s nothing wrong with waiting.”

  
“He’s not waiting!” Ranma exclaimed, sitting upright, his bright red hair falling into his flushed face, eyes alive with wicked intentions. “Nobody wants to kiss a pork rind!”

  
“Ranma!” Akane said, but her tone was indulgent, and when she caught Ryoga’s eye, a giggle slipped out, loud and clear.

  
She had never forgiven him for being P-chan. Ryoga looked down, at his scarred knuckles resting on his knees,feeling shame course through him in time to the beat of his heart in his ears. He wanted to run, as far as he could. He hoped he never found his way back.

  
“Oh, the hot pot’s ready!” Kasumi said cheerfully, and Ryoga let himself be distracted, grateful for the excuse.

  
:

  
Nabiki was waiting outside of the bathroom when he came out, leaning against the wall, arms cradled in front of her. He eyed her, waiting for a witticism or other insult, but she said nothing, and he walked past her toweling his hair vigorously. She fell into step behind him, her walk casual as she trailed him upstairs, and toward his bedroom. Finally, in front of his door Ryoga stopped, pivoting lightly on one heel to look into Nabiki’s clear brown eyes. She appeared soft, innocent and long dealings with her made Ryoga suspicious.

  
“What do you-”

  
He froze as she leaned forward. His training gave him plenty of time to move, but later Ryoga would realize that part of him hadn’t even believed what was happening, _could be happening_.

  
Divided, he stood still, lips parted as Nabiki leaned forward and kissed him soundly, her mouth strange and warm against his own. It lasted ten seconds and then she pulled back with an airy laugh, shaking her hair out of her face.

  
Ryoga could feel himself flushing, and he opened his mouth, only to swallow and look down at his bare toes, splayed out on the hard wood underfoot.

  
“The first one was free.”

  
He looked back up swiftly, in time to see Nabiki pop her gum, and then start a bubble.

  
“What?” His voice came out slow, confused as dread and heat mingled at the realization searing him. She couldn’t mean-

  
“From now on they cost 300 yen.” Her eyes creased happily at his expression. “Price subject to change. If you wanted some practice, P-chan.”

  
“My name’s not-” Ryoga began hotly before he bit his lip, trying to calm down.

  
“Hey, hey.” Nabiki exclaimed, elegant hands up in the air in front of her like a white flag. “You didn’t taste anything like pork rind.”

  
And then she licked her lips, tongue a slow drag of pink muscle, and Ryoga swallowed, eyes darting away from her face as she chimed with laughter.

  
She left him frozen in his doorway.

  
:

  
He did have 300 yen. It wasn’t pricey at all for what she was offering.

  
:  
They kissed four times that day, and the last time she had to pull herself away, lips parting in an audible smack. He felt flushed and stupid with the pleasures her mouth had to offer. A lush wet, oasis and his own mouth, a desert.

  
“I have to go.” She told him, and her eyes were bright when they met his. Ryoga was not foolish enough to think their meeting meant much to her. Nabiki was a harder catch than that. She’d never be tamed for a few paltry kisses, especially ones he’d paid for.

  
“I have more money.” He told her, and even speaking, his mouth felt unusual on his face. Like it no longer belonged there.

  
He watched the plump, strawberry curve of Nabiki’s lips, and thought he knew where they did belong.

  
“I have to study, tonight.” She told him. Her eyes flicked from his eyes, to his mouth, to a little lower, where P-chan was standing tall and proud. Ryoga wondered how much he’d have to pay to entice her to kiss him elsewhere and felt ashamed at the thought. “I can sell you a picture of Akane, if you-”

  
“Do you have any of you?” He asked, and for the first time during the entire, awkward affair Nabiki looked unsure, her cheeks flushed. Only for a second though, before her chin firmed.

  
“Do you want school swimsuit or PE shorts?”

  
:

  
He bought one of each, and placed them face down beside his bed, pulling his cock instead to the memory of her lips under his.

  
:

  
“Wait, wait.” He said, pulling his lips from hers. It’s the third time he’d bought a kiss that day, and Nabiki let her hips grind over his knee as she pulled back. It made his blood race to know she wanted this.

  
“What, P-chan?” She asked, and she even sounded breathless, her voice strained and wanting.

  
“I’m out of money.” He told her shame-faced and she grimaced at him, lips turned down with displeasure. He shifted, leaning a hip to the school desk, and he watched her eyes flicker to where his cock pressed against the ironed lines of his school uniform, and back up. She wanted _him_ , and the thought was heat itself.

  
“How much do you have on you?” She asked finally, and he pulled the bills from his wallet to hand to her wordlessly.

  
“You get ten seconds.” She told him, and then she was in his arms again.

  
:

  
He didn’t realize until later, but that was a discount.

  
:

  
“Oh, wow!” Kasumi’s pleasant voice rang out over the hubbub emanating from the old lady’s noodle shop. “Is that Ryoga-kun? He’s so hardworking.”

  
Nabiki turned, still counting her change from the boutique. Kasumi had hustled her out before she could make a fuss, but she was almost certain she’d been shorted five yen.

  
It _was_ him, red-faced as he waited on a table, a tray of food balanced solidly on one bicep. His hair hung in his eyes, as it had after their first transaction, after her hands had fisted it into sweaty clumps, his stupid bandana forgotten on the floor.

  
“Did you want to go eat?” Kasumi spoke gently, but Nabiki still spooked like a horse, her hands shaking her change all over the ground.

  
:

  
“Alright, but you owe me 100 yen.” She told him with a yawn, brushing sleepily at her eyes. Ryoga felt despicable, degenerate, standing with dark purpose in her doorway, but Nabiki just smiled her pointed cat’s smile, letting him into the warm light of her bedroom.

  
“That’s fine.” He said, and then, because he was an idiot and he knew it. He knew it and his mouth was opening anyway. “ _Why_?”

  
She stepped toward the bed, her footfalls light enough to be silent, even to his trained ear. Ryoga shuffled in behind her. He felt large, incongruous to the delicate yellows and blues of her room. At least as P-chan, he’d been ugh, _cute_ enough for Akane’s room. Nabiki sat on the bed before him with a whump, and held out her hand.

  
“Because.” She said, but she was still smiling softly at him, her eyes bright as he fumbled in his pocket for bills. He didn’t mind. He’d pay so much more for this, the easy acceptance of her body. She counted it briefly before tucking it away in her nightstand, one hand patting the bed beside her. Ryoga swallowed. He’d paid for five kisses, twenty-seconds a kiss, less than two minutes.

  
“Are you nervous?” She asked, and Ryoga scowled at the amusement in her voice.

  
“No.” He said. He could feel sweat beading at his temple, and before he could say anything else stupid, he leaned in, his mouth finding hers easily. Her lips were soft, plush under his and he wasted ten whole seconds on just the soft pressure of her against him. The sweet smell of her shampoo.

  
It didn’t _feel_ like a waste.

  
It was a shock when her tongue darted out and Ryoga met her eagerly, eyes slipping closed as they pressed together. She tasted like toothpaste, and a dry cottony taste, as though she’d been sleeping. Ryoga hoped he hadn’t woken her.

  
Did Nabiki have preferred business hours?

  
Did Nabiki have _other business_?

  
He started to pull away, to ask her, despondent.Instead, her arms were looping around his neck, her mouth alive under his. Her teeth were smooth against his tongue, her mouth forceful and wanting against his own. It had to have been more than twenty seconds and Ryoga leaned back, his heart racing. When he opened his eyes she was flushed, her eyes still closed, body swaying towards him as a plant leans for the sun.

  
Ryoga may be a fool, but he wasn’t stupid. He leaned back into her, his mouth meeting hers with a groan.

  
:

  
When he checked his watch in the hallway, he was shocked to see twenty minutes had passed. Although Ryoga had been lost many times, it had never been like this.

  
:

  
“I only have a couple of minutes.” She told him crossly, but he had already given her the money. He felt anxious, a little desperate for her but for the first time she was stiff in his arms. Ryoga pressed a stiff kiss onto her and then pulled away, making a big show of glancing at his watch.

  
“Oh.” He said, and tried to make it sound convincing, but her raised eyebrow was making him sweat. “I have to...run. To...work. Keep the change?”

  
She was still staring at him as he ran off a slender, uniformed figure stark against the stone wall of the school.

  
“Oi!”

  
He turned on his heel, heart thumping.

  
“You’re going the wrong way!”

  
:

  
Wasn’t he always?

  
:

  
“Yeah, sure.” She said distractedly, rolling her neck. The tiny tv in her bedroom was blaring the Tokyo Stock Exchange, small, red-faced men starched into their suits shouting algebra. Ryoga would never understand the world of finance. Give him a boulder to break, a mountain to climb, an ocean to swim.

  
He hesitated at her tone, crumpled paper held stiffly in his hand. He wanted her more than he wanted this kiss, and he smiled fondly at the scowl that broke across her face as he shoved it all back into his pockets.

  
“You seem busy.” Was all he said, and Nabiki sighed, casting her eyes down at the floor. It was hot inside the house and out, the low hum of cicadas audible from her cracked window. “I can come back later?”

  
Nabiki rolled her eyes and fisted a hand in the front of his shirt, yanking him into the muggy sanctum of her bedroom with surprising force.

  
“As if you could ever find your way back.” She said, but the words had no bite to them.

  
:

  
Her mouth had tasted a little of the ham salad Kasumi had made for lunch. Ryoga had to bite his lip against a smile when he realized.

  
And she hadn’t even counted the money.

  
:

  
“Bye P-chan!” Ranma called, stretching out his back, red hair frizzy with sweat and steam. “Don’t forget to lock up!”

  
“Hai, hai.” Ryoga called back, without looking up from the steady motion of his broom across the concrete. The old lady had sold a lot of noodles today, and a lot of beer. Which meant Ryoga had enough money for another week of kisses, and the thought made him smile.

  
“Oh, hi Nabiki-chan!” Ranma chirped, voice drifting in through the open front door. “Why are you here?”

  
Ryoga froze, the cessation of soft whisking of broom bristles leaving him couched in silence.

  
“Oh, Akane said it was going to rain.” Nabiki said easily. She was lying. He could hear it in the smooth tone of her voice. “I brought you both umbrellas.”

  
“Thanks.” Ranma said, and then an awkward pause where they presumably each stood, waiting for the other to leave. He was uncomfortably aware that he smelled like sesame oil and sweat. Jeez. Ryoga flushed and bent back to his sweeping.

  
“Well...bye, Nabiki.” Ranma said, and now Ryoga couldn’t hear anything besides the frantic pace of his heart.

  
“Bye, Ranma-kun.”

  
With stiff movements, Ryoga emptied his dust pan, and tucked it all away. Next the chairs, a twisty, trendy wrought iron design that he blamed on Shampoo. They still needed to be wiped down and stacked onto the tables before he could head home.

  
With Nabiki.

  
“Hey.”

  
He turned and she was smiling at him in the dim light of the street lamp, an umbrella swinging from her wrist.

  
“Hey.” He said and then coughed. The silence was profound, with nothing to interrupt them.

  
“I brought you-”

  
“Yeah, I-” Ryoga stopped short, and then peered at her from under his bangs. He had no idea why she was really here. “I heard.”

  
“Oh.” And it was her turn to shift from foot to foot as he stacked the chairs in the restive quiet of the closed noodle shop. Two more chairs and he stopped.

  
“But-” He swallowed. He was so scared of making waves with her. “But why are you here?”

  
“We, uh.” She looked down at her small yellow flats, entirely impractical for bad weather. “We only had two umbrellas.”

  
This wasn’t going to work.

  
“It isn’t going to rain.” He said softly and her eyes fled from his- to the walls, the chairs, the cloudless sky visible through the still open door. Finally, she sighed.

  
“You haven’t-” She looked unsure, and her hand spun and spun the umbrella beside her. “You haven’t bought my services in almost two weeks.”

  
“I’ve been saving for something.” Ryoga said, and Nabiki nodded slowly, a jerk of her head that let her hair hide her eyes. “I’ve been meaning to discuss prices with you.”

  
He wanted to smile at the quick play of emotions across her face. Curiosity won out, and he stepped closer to her, watching how still she stayed as he slipped into her personal space. Her trust made him bold. He wouldn’t lose out waiting a second time.

  
“Sure.” She said, and she sounded nervous, the question obvious in her tone but her eyes met his willingly.

  
“How much for a date?”

 

**Author's Note:**

>  _"They say money is the root of all evil, I see money as the route of all people."_ \- Joey [Bada$$](http://honeyedlion.tumblr.com/)


End file.
